


Water Heals the Body & Smiles Heal the Heart

by MadameFluffnStuff



Series: Aang is a ~little shit~ [6]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aang is a ~little shit~, Aang learns how to heal post series, F/M, Healer!Aang, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, Katara is ~too tired for this~, NaNoWriMo 2020, Post-Avatar: The Last Airbender, Sick!Katara, the sweeties are as protective as they are stubborn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:54:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27358336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameFluffnStuff/pseuds/MadameFluffnStuff
Summary: Death had blue eyes, an unrivaled beauty, and a snarl that reminded Aang of her smile despite the promise of murder in her eyes.a.k.a. Aang learns to heal post-series (and is a ~little shit~), and he and Katara are equally protective and equally passionate about doing whatever it takes to ensure their sweetie’s safety.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar)
Series: Aang is a ~little shit~ [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917649
Comments: 2
Kudos: 58





	Water Heals the Body & Smiles Heal the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to write something “short” for the first day of NaNoWriMo, but, apparently, the powers that be decided I’m not allowed to. So this is two days’ worth of NaNoWriMo. **Also!** This isn’t the healer!Aang fic I’ve talked about before. I just have a few leftover ideas from the concept, and this is one that I thought would be short (obviously not, though) but fun!
> 
> _(Aang learning to heal inspired by@roselevesque on tumblr!)_

This was it. The end of the line. He wasn’t the best Avatar, but his legacy was  _ kindof _ decent. He had hoped to live long enough to have kids—to bring into the world another piece of Katara for him to love (and to maybe restore a bit of his slaughtered nation). But maybe the universe had another way of restoring the airbenders, after all? That would be nice.

His oncoming end? Not so nice.

Death had blue eyes, an unrivaled beauty, and a snarl that reminded Aang of her smile despite the promise of murder in her eyes. 

Aang briefly held onto the hope that he was seeing things, but there was no doubt about it. Death was, in fact, here. She’d found him.

Katara was going to kill him.

Probably with something sharp. Or dull, if she felt like dragging it out. Or maybe from a distance? No, no, no, she wasn’t one to avoid diving into the thick of it and serving justice with her bare hands if she had to. She could snap the leg off the broken chair next to him and use it as a melee weapon to bludgeon him if she wanted. 

His fiancé was pretty creative, after all, and Aang was a dead man decorated in a messy patchwork of dirt, blood, sweat, and enough bruising to make him look like someone stricken with the plague.

It was a strange feeling, being pinned in place by nothing more than her glare. Katara had barely rounded the corner of the alley, but she spotted him immediately. Her desperation and worry hit him like a bucket of cold water. Aang would have fallen off the splintered barrel he was using as an impromptu seat and attacked her the second she appeared if he wasn’t so weak for her, especially when she looked at him in  _ that _ way that compelled him to hug her.

But then Katara noticed the bloody strips of ‘bandages’ he had repurposed from his singed robes, and the whole of her became as deadly as the battlefield she just walked through. 

Aang’s life flashed before his eyes. Or maybe it was Kyoshi’s? Roku’s, maybe? It didn’t matter. Judging by the frosty glare plunging into him like a harpoon and chaining him to his fate, Aang only had a few seconds to scribble his last wishes into the grime lining the alley’s wall.

Katara squared her shoulders like a weapon locking onto its target. Aang’s past lives cringed into the corner of his mind and slammed the door on him. 

_ Spirits _ , he hoped she said something nice at his funeral. 

Katara’s voice was chipped obsidian sharpened to a spearpoint. “ _ Aang... _ ” 

Aang swallowed. He was living on borrowed time. 

How Katara knew where his mission was was beyond him. How she was able to  _ get _ there was an even bigger mystery. Zuko promised him that he was perfectly capable of convincing the world that Aang was staying at the Fire Nation Palace for some bonding time with his favorite Sifu Hotman. 

But, alas, the angel of death was upon him, and she was as beautiful as she was lethal.

Aang smiled around a mouthful of his robe in a wounded attempt at parlay. It didn’t work. Katara reared like a bullhound ready to charge. 

Aang shrank into a shell that wasn’t there. “...Hi, Ka’para…,” he weakly mumbled into the burned fabric.

“ _ Hi, Katara? _ Really?!” Katara bristled like a tigerdillo. Oh, how Aang wished for a tigerdillo. He had at least a chance of escaping that. “Don’t you give me  _ ‘hi Katara’ _ after you throw yourself into a warzone without me! Do you have  _ any idea  _ how worried I was?!”

Aang spat out the part of his robe that had been giving him a window of access to his abdomen. He failed  _ spectacularly _ to tuck it into his pants without revealing his sudden urgency. He winced but resisted the urge to cradle his side. The scabbing stretching from his shoulder to his navel cracked like thin ice giving way. His piss-poor attempt at a bandage sloughed down to his waist like loose pants falling down. Aang blushed. He scrambled to hold the bloody wrapping from falling out of his robes, but he couldn’t do anything about the blot of warmth seeping through his sash. It was a lot wetter than before. Hopefully, it wasn’t noticeable.

Katara narrowed her eyes.

Okay, that was  _ entirely _ unfair. 

“Um...I can explain?”

The crack in his dry voice summoned Katara to his side too fast for him to escape her. He vaguely registered her grip on his arms before she— _ gently _ —took him out at the knees and pinned him supine. Then, before he could figure out which way was up, what was left of his robes were torn off and folded into a pillow to prop him up. 

Katara’s face eclipsed the quarter moon above him. Aang struggled to decipher what she was mumbling so furiously, and, if he wasn’t fearing for his life, he would have been impressed by how colorfully she cursed him. She really was creative.

_ Spirits _ , he loved her.

“Don’t you look at me like that!” 

Aang blinked dumbly. “...Like what?”

Bad choice.  _ Very _ bad choice. Speaking was not a luxury he had at the moment, especially if he wanted to survive to see the morning.

“You know  _ exactly _ how, Aang!” Katara’s words were daggers, but her hands were gentle and concerned. The slight tremble in her fingers as she tossed the last of his failed bandage away nearly broke his heart. When the tremble reached her voice, it shattered him. “ _ Smiling _ at me like everything’s perfectly fine—I  _ told _ you not to come here without me! I  _ told _ you, Aang! You promised me that—!”

Katara buckled over in a coughing fit so acute that she lost her connection to her element. The alley was suddenly dark, and the icy healing water splashed onto Aang’s chest.

Aang sat up so quickly that he nearly flew forward. He boarded off the pain from the movement to give Katara his every attention. The sounds that left her were scratchy, and the crackling, like dried rubber snapping apart, made every part of him weep.

“ _ Easy _ , easy, easy...” Aang patted her back and held her up. She went limp as soon as his grip gave her the option. This was bad. She was exhausted. “Easy, Katara. I got you.”

The fit passed, but Katara allowed him to hold her up, for the moment, while she caught her breath. Aang touched the back of his hand to her brow and cursed something even Gyatso would reprimand him for. Katara’s fever was  _ far _ , far worse than when he left her at the temple. He wouldn't be surprised if her sweat started to steam off her, for the Spirits’ sakes. 

_ Why _ didn’t he have Toph cover for him instead?!

Aang shook his head. This wasn’t the time. Katara needed help.  _ Now.  _ There wasn’t another living soul for miles around, but Katara had taught him enough healing to get by...hopefully.

Trying to move his feverish fiancé was like trying to move a coiled batviper, but Katara spat twice as much venom and writhed three times as hard. Aang ignored her, and he ignored the sharp stings along his wounded torso, too, as he maneuvered her into laying against the barrel. Her fever crippled her defenses with another handful of coughs. She was sweaty and glaring when he was done. 

Katara, however, was not done. She wound up like she was going to tackle him if she had to, but Aang, on instinct, earthbended a thin belt of stone to curl around her waist and lock her in her seat.

Katara froze, looked at the earthen restraint, and glared at him with something worse than betrayal. “You did  _ not _ just—!” 

Aang tuned her out as best as he could. His chest rang hollow, and every part of him ached like it was throbbing with infection when Katara tugged the small restraint almost desperately. She kept glancing at the wound cutting across his torso like a bloody sash. Her fury that followed was righteous and bloodthirsty, tamed only by an occasional cough or bead of sweat dribbling into her eye. 

Aang looked around. Water. He needed water. The water she was using on him would work fine. He just had to purify it with a little careful bending before—

“ _ Aang! _ ” Katara armed her tone to the teeth with a million threats, but the fading tremble in her voice kicked out the lone crutch keeping it up. Even in the faint moonlight, Aang saw how red her face was becoming. He tried to ignore the way it hurt him. He could only hope it wasn’t from her fever. “Aang, get this  _ damn _ thing off me!”

It was considerably harder to ignore her this time, but Aang did his best. The healing water pooled in his one hand while he scooted, cross-legged, impossibly closer; he gently pushed her shoulders back with the other so she sat properly against the barrel.

Katara did not take kindly to being manhandled or ignored. “You—You are by  _ far _ and above  _ the _ most—! Hey, what—Aang, No— _ No! _ ” She ducked his attempts to touch the globules of healing water to her temples. Aang thanked the universe for the one blessing that it wasn’t a full moon. Otherwise, there would have been no way he could best her attempts to overpower his waterbending with hers. “Aang, give that back!”

“I can’t do that.”

“ _ Aang—! _ ”

“Katara, you are burning up. Your fever is out of control.” Healing water in one hand, Aang gently pushed Katara back. She was too easy to move. He reminded himself to have a  _ talk _ with Zuko when he got back. Katara needed to be in bed, not on a battlefield. “I’m sorry for making you worry, but you’re sick. You told me you would stay at the temple until I came home.”

“ _ You _ told  _ me _ you weren’t going to come here without me,” Katara spat. Her exhaustion was outpacing her adrenaline. It made it all the harder for her to fight him. Aang hated the advantage even if it saved his life for the moment. She slumped against the barrel in front of him and struggled to catch her breath. “Why would you lie to me? Or do you expect me to believe you did all this on impulse?” 

Aang shifted his weight and didn’t meet her eyes. “...I didn’t lie.”

“ _ Yes _ , you did!”

The betrayal she struck him with was visceral and made his lungs try to shrivel up and hide in his throat. “No, actually, I didn’t.” Aang sagged a bit more, and his voice sagged with him. “I said I was going to Zuko’s, and I did. I didn’t say anything about this place.”

“A technicality? Really, Aang?  _ That’s _ really how you’re going to justify sneaking off?” Aang gathered what was left of his dignity and met Katara’s glare. The healing water was cold on his hands. “What if you had gotten hurt? Oh wait, you  _ did _ ! And then— _ Dammit _ , Aang!”

Aang shrunk a little more. Katara writhed, though weakly. She cursed and dug her nails into his wrists, but he didn’t move his hands off her temples. She could be furious with him later. He drowned her out and tried to remember how she taught him to cool someone’s chi. It wasn’t  _ too _ , too hard. Back then, she had him practice the technique on her, so the energies that met him were familiar. 

He tried not to panic too much when the healing water glowed faintly, highlighting the redness and feverish sweat on Katara’s face; the rivers of her chi were magma under his fingers. 

Aang ground his teeth, held her firm, and got to work. The healing water glowed just a bit brighter, and the cold, chiming hum filling the alley rang in his ears like the sharp noise that deafened him earlier when he stood too close to that bomb.

Katara fought him on principle for a little while longer before slowing and coming to a stop. She must have been worse than he thought. The little he was able to do with the meager few lessons she gave him acted like a tranquilizer on her. He could see it in real-time. From top to bottom, every part of her loosened as he tempered her fever. Now, she held his wrists loosely, like it was reflex more than anything. 

Aang allowed himself a small smile. His night got a little darker when Katara closed her eyes, but her face was uncoiling like the rest of her. She was angrier, though. The weight of her fury sat on his chest and growled creative ways of killing him into his ear. 

Aang smiled even wider. He welcomed the quiet and the cold night winds brushing them in gentle waves. It helped cool Katara down all the faster. Time crawled by in small eternities before Katara relaxed into something approaching peace. 

Aang didn’t allow himself such a luxury. He scraped the bottom of his reserves and molded her fever like putty in his hands, kneading away the heat plaguing her. 

Katara still hadn’t opened her eyes. “...Don’t look at me like that,” she mumbled, her words so quiet that they would have been lost in the sound of the healing water if Aang wasn’t paying attention to her every movement and reaction. She limped her wounded pride away and pressed her face into the relief he was bringing her. 

Aang sighed, relieved to hear her again; he muted his laugh to a mild shake of his shoulders. His voice was laced with a gentle tease and was just as soft-spoken as hers. “Look at you like what? You can’t see me, silly.”

“Don’t need to. Your stupid is blinding.” Her words slurred a bit like she just woke up from a much-needed nap. She released his wrists and plopped her hands into her lap. Aang struggled to keep his concentration when she rolled her head back against the barrel. He almost wanted her to claw his wrists again. She slumped like he had broken her, not like she was relaxing. “...stup’d smile...I was worried sick about you.”

Aang swallowed around the knife that her hollow voice plunged into him. “I don’t think it’s possible for you to be any sicker than you are right now.”

Katara peeked open one eye. Her glare was tempered, but it still burned him. Aang met it with a lopsided grin that was as shy as it was apologetic. 

She turned a shade of red that wasn’t from her fever and rolled her eyes closed again. “...Oh, shut up.”

“The three words that won you my heart.”

Katara groaned. Aang laughed again. The air felt a little lighter.

Aang focused on the too-warm air cycling in and out of Katara’s lungs. Her chi wasn’t a forge under his fingers, anymore, but it was slow to recede from being white-hot. They must have sat there for longer than he thought. His burns were scabbed over again when he finally looked down to check them.

Katara held one of his wrists. Just the one. She held it in a weak but insistent grip like he was about to turn into water and slip away from her. 

“...I was really worried about you.”

Aang’s heart tore like a piece of sodden paper, and he struggled to swallow the broken pieces fighting to get up his throat. He shifted his hands to hold her face alongside her temples. The white-ish hue of the healing water tinted her features the faintest shade of blue. He tilted her head towards him, and her eyes were wet and otherworldly in contrast when she opened them. 

His voice was as defeated as he felt. “I know you’re worried, Katara, but...but I’m worried, too. You’re sick, sweetie.  _ Very _ sick. You would have tied me to the bed if I was as sick as you are and  _ mentioned _ the thought of getting up.” He kissed her brow, held there for a few seconds more than normal, and ducked his head so she had no choice but to look at him. “I’m not going to gamble with your well-being.”

Every part of Katara reared like it was ready to argue with him, but she just sighed. “You shouldn’t have come here alone, Aang.” 

“I’m not alone. Sokka’s here with me.”

Katara took a slow, deep breath. “...Of course.  _ Of course _ , he is.”

“Sorry…” Aang didn’t know what he was apologizing for, but, whatever it was, it didn’t feel like he could ever grovel enough to right the wrong. He briefly cut his healing connection to bend away the belt around Katara’s waist. “He and I got separated a little bit ago. I was going to meet up with him at our waypoint once I got myself situated.”

“Situated. That’s one word for it.”

“I’m fine, Katara. Really, I am. Besides, you taught me how to heal so I could ‘situate’ myself if I ever needed to.”

“For emergencies.”

“For when you’re not there.”

Life rushed back into Katara’s features. She bristled like he’d just insulted her ancestors and her honor. “I will  _ always _ be there, Aang.”

Aang sighed and held back his rebuttal. He didn’t want to argue. She was in no shape to be worked up, either. 

“...You need to move your hand back a bit. Your wrists are too stiff, too.” Katara shifted his hands along her temples until his connection to her chi flowed far clearer than before. “Like that.”

He laughed. “Am I doing it right, now, Sifu Katara?”

Katara’s glare was half-hearted, and her weak smile was half-held back. “For now. You can only do so much in one healing session, though. Remember?” She gave him a meaningful look.

_ Oh _ , how he missed that look. He just might survive this, after all. 

He really,  _ really _ wanted to have kids. 

Aang’s smile was inhumanly big and leaked onto Katara’s face. “I know. I know.” He called away the water and sat back. “These things take time and more than one session.” Healing water in one hand, he brushed back the loose hair on her brow and kissed her again, just because he could. His relief escaped him in a small giggle when he felt how much her fever had gone down. 

Katara wasn’t looking at him when he pulled back. Her eyes locked onto his scabbing burns and the peppering of darkening bruises on his chest.

Aang sighed and tried to hide the reluctance in his voice as he handed her the healing water like a peace offering. “Do you really want to?”

“...It would make me feel a bit better, yes.”

Relief had blue eyes, an unmatched grin, and a touch so gentle that Aang couldn’t imagine an equivalent. He sat up and shivered a bit as Katara’s bending lit up the alley and gripped the strings of his chi in a pillow-soft hand. She never healed him the same way twice—she was incredibly creative, after all—but she always started and ended her healing sessions the same way.

She always started at his stomach, in his sea of chi, and ran in almost a sprint up and down his every line of energy. It was like she was looking for a break that she would have to fix, especially at the center of his chest. 

She hovered over his heart like she always did, but, this time, she didn’t move away. Aang tried to read her face as she held there. He couldn’t for the life of him decipher what she was thinking, but her expression made him weak for her, especially when her eyes softened in  _ that _ way that compelled him to hold her close.

He held her cheek and ducked his head so she had no choice but to look at him. His smile was as shy as it was loving, and, when she finally looked  _ at _ him instead of  _ through _ him, Aang kissed her cheek and held there for a few seconds longer than normal.

“You need to move your cheeks a bit. Your face is too stiff, too,” Aang said. He pressed his thumbs to the corners of her lips and curled them up in a grin. She shot him a look and an arched brow, but it deflected off the shield of his smile. “There ya go! You’re a natural, Pupil Katara.”

Katara grumbled, swatted him away, and got to work on where the burn started near his shoulder. Her smile was a ghost, but, when Aang laughed, it came back to life. 

She looked at him with a promise to smack him later. 

_ Spirits _ , he loved her.

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

Aang giggled like a kid who knew something they shouldn’t. “Yes, but I’m  _ your  _ pain in the ass, my dear panda lilly~”

Katara smiled even bigger even as she shoved him the barest bit. They shared a laugh. Maybe Aang wasn’t such a bad healer, after all. He’d probably never be as good as Katara, sure, but, if he knew anything, it was that smiles were the best medicine.

She might not need him to make her happy  _ every _ time she forgot how to do it herself, and that was perfectly fine. Better than fine! He would love nothing more than for Katara to be able to heal her heart with a smile all on her own.

But Aang didn’t need to worry too much about that, even if she never got as good as him. It’s not like he would let her run loose into danger without him. He would always be there to make her smile.

Besides, if he managed to survive this, then that means his chances of having kids were all the better. Having more of Katara to love and heal with smiles would bring him joy like no other. 

It’s not like he wouldn’t always be there. He would make sure, above all else, that Katara and every part of her never forgot how to smile.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have enough heals for all these feels lmao
> 
> _Happy NaNoWriMo! Hope ya enjoyed!:D_


End file.
